[ It's the sort of ridiculous shoe a lady must where she's a good foot shorter than half the men in the room and needs to get them to meet her in the eye. Or vaguely contemplate stabbing one of them in the neck.

Once it's free, she wriggles her toes where they're caught in her stockings. Her leg arched to stretch out briefly in a content noise of finally letting herself unwind. That party far enough behind them now that she didn't care if someone was following the car, even, and was finding all sorts of new gossip. ]

Oh yes. Definitely. Like you deserve. [ Her eyes slip shut with a content smile. ] Not that I am enjoying it, of course, justice isn't enjoyed. I'm far too impartial for that.